Socks
by fennecfawkes
Summary: Chad/Ryan. Oneshot. Fluff. Ryan Evans defines "crisis" a little differently from you or me. I wrote this, but the characters are absolutely not mine. What if they were, though? That'd be crazy!


"Chad! Thank God you picked up! We have an emergency on our hands."

Ryan Evans was, in fact, freaking out. It hadn't been a good day to start. He'd missed a morning class because his apartment complex's hot water had run out, so he couldn't shower or make breakfast. The barista at Starbucks—not his usual Starbucks, mind you—had totally screwed up his order, giving him something that tasted a lot more like a shot in the dark than the Americana latte he'd been looking forward to. And now, this, a crisis of near-biblical proportions.

"What's wrong, Ryan?" Chad asked concernedly. "Did something happen to Sharpay?"

"No. It's my laundry."

Chad didn't say anything.

"Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I heard you. Your _laundry_? That's an emergency?"

"Someone stole one of my loads, Chad! I no longer have more than two pairs of socks to my name! Do you have any idea how that feels?"

"Wait, you were able to fill an entire load with just your socks?"

"That's off the point."

"And the point is...?"

"I don't have any socks! There's a laundry thief in my building and all I have left are chartreuse argyle and puce and mauve striped!"

"OK. I'm going to ignore that last bit. Now, let's calm down and think about this."

"You know what would help? If you told me what you're wearing," Ryan suggested.

"Well, right now, not very much. I just got out of the shower. We have hot water in my complex."

"Ha, ha. Go on. Clothes. What are they? What do they look like? I need a visual."

"Boxer briefs. Black. And I'm just now pulling a black beater over my head."

"Of course you are." Ryan moaned slightly. Why did he have to move to the other side of the country again? Oh yeah. Julliard. His flourishing career in the arts. That. Whatever. Right now, he'd rather be taking sub-par musical theatre courses in Albuquerque if it meant seeing his boyfriend in varying states of undress. Also, he'd still have his socks.

"OK. You distracted me for a minute there. That was good. But I still don't have my socks."

"How about this?" Chad still sounded patient. "You have plenty of shoes that don't require socks, right?"

"Right..."

"So while you're re-amassing a vast array of socks that are colored words I've never heard, then you can wear those. Is that fair?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that works. I can't believe I didn't think of that. I just got these really great white wing-tip, kind of loafer style shoes at Barneys on final sale, and I gotta tell you, Chad, they're beyond fabulous."

"Ryan, you're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That thing where you're really super gay."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry."

"No problem. It's the first thing I really liked about you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Kind of. You just weren't ashamed at all. You never are. It's kind of hot, you know."

"Aw, shucks. Hey, you never asked me what I'm wearing."

"No need. I'll just end up picturing you not wearing whatever it is that you are."

"You're cute."

"You're cuter."

"Thanks for making me freak out less."

"Thanks for calling on me in your time of need."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

Ryan's day got better from there. He made it to his night class, he hadn't seen the rerun of _Boy Meets World _that aired at midnight, and his hot water turned back on. But his good mood didn't reach its full potential until the next afternoon, when he walked back into his apartment complex after class and the doorman told him there was a package waiting behind the counter. The return address was the Danforth residence. Curious, Ryan opened the box before he even took off his shoes.

If there was a color, pattern, or style of sock he hadn't had before, he certainly had it now. The box was entirely filled with them. Some were clearly dollar store finds emblazoned with sports team logos or pictures of teddy bears, but most of them were as high quality as any pair he'd ever bought (except those cashmere ones he'd found in Davos and just _had _to have). Neutral tones, bold and bright patterns, and white name brands that only had name brands for the sake of having name brands—every sock he'd ever need was in this box.

Smiling, he picked up the note lying on top of the socks and read it.

_Ry—_

_Thought you might need a few pairs to tide you over while you're in the land between._

_Love,_

_Chad_

"A few." Ryan laughed and picked up the phone.


End file.
